


You Talk Too Much

by tauntaun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e21-22 Zero Hour, M/M, Season 3 Rebels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tauntaun/pseuds/tauntaun
Summary: From Kallus the gibe is very particular, the memories the words invoke—that they were clearly meant to invoke—excruciating.He lets himself remember anyway.





	You Talk Too Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ibreathethroughwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/gifts), [emocsibe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocsibe/gifts).



_You talk too much._

A dull, throbbing pain winds like a vine around his throat as his mind returns to the words, words he tries to press away. Not the insult implied by them: he knows his own loquaciousness, remembers Eli’s gentle teasing about his tendency to lecture. No, he’s heard it before, one way or another, and, unlike many indignities he has suffered during his time with the Empire, it has never hurt. 

But from Kallus the gibe is very particular, the memories the words invoke—that they were clearly meant to invoke—excruciating.

He lets himself remember anyway.

First, a night on the _Chimaera_. A glass or two of alc amongst officers. A leg pressed for a moment too long, a gaze held a moment too long, wide black pupils rimmed with gold, heavy lidded eyes. 

For once, Thrawn had no strategy. 

Perhaps he should have had one, but it is too late for self-recrimination.

Finding himself in his quarters with Kallus, not entirely sure how they got there, he remembers himself talking. Talking, uncharacteristically, simply to fill the silence, the charged space around them. 

He remembers his own heart beating in his throat as Kallus moved toward him, slowly, tentatively, his hand sliding up Thrawn’s arm to his shoulder, his neck, then into his hair. He remembers Kallus gently pulling them together, a soft hint of a smile on his lips. And he remembers those words, those words spoken in a low whisper before he pressed his lips to Thrawn’s, pressed his tongue into his mouth, pressed his body to his as they came together in a heated embrace for the first time. 

The first of many times.

 _You talk too much_

spoken quietly, with a gentle chuckle, after Thrawn returned to his quarters, complaining of a difficult or frustrating encounter with a superior or, worse, a subordinate. Before the consolation of hands kneading away tension and a mouth pressed to his body. Before a bliss that took them both beyond words.

_You talk too much._

The dull pain rises from his gut, his heart, threatens to choke him. 

_You have the heart of a rebel._

A heart never meant for him. 

_I’ll take that as a compliment._

He forces a smile as he watches his lover’s world explode.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @ibreathethroughwords' Thrawllus fic, "Debate, Desecrate, Diverge," as well as the long Thrawllus I know she's writing; and then by my re-reading of @emocsibe's "Heart of a Rebel." I read them both today and so this just....happened. No apologies.
> 
> [cozycozytauntaun at tumblr - come say hi!]


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